


Locket

by Touchefrappe



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Depression, Gender Neutral Prounouns, Mental Illness, Multi, Other, Pining, Reader-Insert, Smut, They/Them/Theirs Pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 06:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23389960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Touchefrappe/pseuds/Touchefrappe
Summary: I know I’ll be moving on. I know I’ll be missing out.
Relationships: Johnny Suh/Reader
Kudos: 8





	Locket

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This story is somber and angsty and will touch on the topic of depression and mental illness, so please be conscious and responsible if reading! This is not going to be happy ending sort of story.This will have multi-chaptered, though I am not sure how long this will run. Kind of winging it tbh. Smut will come along in future chapter(s). 
> 
> Reader is non-binary and uses they/them pronouns, thus gender neutral pronouns will be used in this story, though this could be read from any gendered perspective. 
> 
> Reader has breasts and a vagina (which is being noted as there will be explicit smut in future chapter(s). 
> 
> Song inspiration: Locket by Lila Drew
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

8 AM is too early, or maybe it wouldn’t be if you hadn’t gone to bed four hours ago. Your shift starts soon. This wouldn’t be such a problem if your comforter didn’t weigh a ton and a half; it’s practically pinning you to the bed. You muster what little strength you have to pull yourself from the sheets and begrudgingly make your way to the bathroom. Due to the time restraint, you can only focus on the essentials: teeth and clothes. You had hoped you would wake up in enough time to shower and put a bit of make-up on, especially considering you haven’t showered in two days, but that’s not your fault. Animal Crossing is addicting and you’ve got to get that serotonin somehow, god knows you can’t produce that shit yourself.

The only thing that makes the idea of going to work the least bit bearable is knowing that you’ll be working with Johnny today. You two have been sharing shifts lately and it’s brought a bit of joy to your otherwise mundane and seemingly meaningless life. He’s funny and charming and sexy and perfect in every way, shape, and form. You wonder how he views you sometimes, but if you think about that too much you’ll probably cry, which is not unordinary, but very unpleasant.

It’s raining outside, not incredibly so, but you’ve sabotaged yourself too many times not bringing an umbrella and you will not do that today. You go through a mental checklist of everything you need before you walk out the door. Keys? Check. Wallet? Check. Umbrella? Check. Inescapable and profoundly disturbing sense of existentialism? Check, check, and check!

The air is heavy with humidity and you feel sticky and gross. Sprinting to your car feels like you’re pushing through fluffy clouds. The click of your car doors unlocking resembles the trumpets of heaven and after a few quick maneuvers you’re swaddled by the safety of your car. You always get a little giddy at the thought of driving. Your car is tiny, cozy, and completely your own. It makes you feel mature and in control whenever you drive. Seems dumb, but you’ve got to appreciate the little things sometimes. You set your spotify to a creepy little podcast, tinker with the AC to get the perfect temperature, set your GPS, and then you’re off. The GPS isn’t really necessary but you like to see how much time it will take you to get to work, and lucky you, you’ll be twenty minutes late. Very predictable of you. You take time at the red light to try and shoot a text to your boss to let him know you’ll be a little late. One word away from completing the message and a text interrupts your typing.

Ooh. Someone’s late. You roll your eyes and smile. Johnny. 

Shush now, child. I’m almost there, you swiftly reply. Three little dots signal a pondering response, but a honk rips you from your phone before you can see what was said. The rest of the ride is boring, save for witnessing typical driving tomfoolery. After however many minutes it takes, you finally pull into a parking spot, coincidentally right next to Johnny’s car. The thought of seeing his dumb face makes you smile a little and influences you to hurry inside.

Your boss greets you with a frown and a bit of sympathy in his eyes. He’s a kind man and let’s you get away with way more than he ought to, but he’s understanding. You had a heart-to-heart maybe a month ago after he found you in the back balling your eyes out whilst taking too long to grab the items he instructed you to restock. You confessed your depression then. He didn’t seem to understand what you were going through, but understood you were upset and comforted you the best he could, and that’s honestly all you could ask for. All he asked from you was to be communicative— if you were going to be late, if you couldn’t make it in, if something was going on or if there was an emergency, all you had to do was let him know, which is exactly what you had failed to do today. So the short chastising you got was justified. He runs a small shop and can’t afford his team to not tell him when they’re going to be late. 

“Sorry, Mr. Aizawa.”

You can see Johnny from the corner of your eye, hiding in the doorway of the back room witnessing the short confrontation. Jerk.

Mr. Aizawa instructs you to perform your usual routine and heads off to finish his remaining work so he can open shop. Johnny is still in the doorway smirking at you.  
“Naughty, naughty,” he playfully goads.

“Yeah, yeah,” you laugh. “Get out of my way so I can put my stuff up.” 

He swiftly retreats backs into the entrance following you to the lockers. You’re comfortable around him but he makes you so sweaty— your palms are practically drowning your dial lock. And he’s so close, you can practically taste his cedar wood cologne. It smells so good and is oddly erotic. Electricity is pooling at the bottom of your stomach. 

“Um...excuse me, sir. I know I’m amazing and you can’t help but be near me, but personal space, please and thank you.” He rolls his eyes and smiles, moving a couple steps back. 

“You’re late again, sweety.”

“Yeah and what of it.” It’s a rhetorical question. You don’t want a response, but good ole Johnny doesn’t ever mind answering. He’s usually quick to respond with a snarky comment, but hesitates to rebuttal. You look up from your belongings to look over at him. He looks pensive and kind of sad. His stare is actually too intense to look at, so you look back to your locker stuffing your belongings away, heart racing and hands shaking from the sudden adrenaline cycling through your blood. 

“I...I’m just worried about you is all.” His response is so soft. He sounds sad.

“O-oh, uhhh…” How the hell are you supposed to respond to that? The dynamic shifted so suddenly your brain doesn’t have time to process the situation. “Thank you?”

He chuckles, intense stare melting into a dimpled smile.

“What are you doing this weekend,” he asks. “Some friends and I are going out. We’ll probably hit up a club or two. You should join us. It’ll be fun.”

There will undoubtedly be alcohol involved, and although that shit has utterly traumatized you due to your countless hangovers, it makes you sociable and falters your inhibitions. You’re usually pretty fun when you’re drunk; it’s like all of your social anxiety melts away. It could be good to go out. Plus you’ve never hung out with Johnny outside of work, and it would be a great opportunity to get closer to him, show him how good you can look when you try, maybe even mess around and kiss him by the end of the night. This could be fun.

“Sure.”


End file.
